Eirikstead
by Specko
Summary: 5E 126, a few months after the end of the Third Great War and Skyrim is still recovering. Hakon Ironhand, a veteran of the war, arrives to the village of Eirikstead in southern Winterhold. Elsewhere, his former comrades Lonnir and Njall make their way north. Has some lore tweaks. I own nothing, Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.


Hakon stopped his tired horses and looked down the main street of Eirikstead. At least that's what he read on a small wooden post, that winds and snow have left their mark on, he just passed by. His cold eyes, blue as ice, inspected the environment. He was entering a typical Nord village, with houses made of wood and stone with roofs of straw. To the left the only building that caught his attention was larger than the others, with a sign simply saying "Inn" on it. Directly across the street was a longhouse where the village's chieftain resided.

Two details caught his attention: a square-built man with a crossbow who stood several feet away from him leaning on the wall of the stable and three horses that stood in front of the building next to the longhouse, that a tall and thin Dark Elf was tending to. Next to the man with a crossbow was a bay of unimpressive look, but for an expert that was Hakon, remarkable animal. Still a bit wild, the horse had strong chest and legs, and its mane fell nearly to the ground, giving him, along with bloodshot restless eyes, the look of a real warhorse.

That horse, Hakon thought, was not a good runner and was useless on a short road, but for the snowy and wild parts of Skyrim it was irreplaceable. It could run for days, crossing mile after mile; in climbing the rocky terrain he had no equal and would rather die from exhaustion than stop to rest. True bandit horse, tough and dangerous like his master, Hakon thought. Uncomfortable shivers went down his spine and he instinctively grabbed the handle of his axe. Although he had nothing to prove it, his gut was telling him that the man with the crossbow was a bandit. His strong body, several scars and clothes made of hardened leather all spoke of previous combat experience. That's why Hakon decided to make it clear.

"Well met, kinsman…It's a nice day."

Man with the crossbow just glanced at him before growling:

"I don't care about the weather, and you…get out of here. I'm not willing to talk."

"Well, friend…seven days I've been riding through the wild and speaking only to my horses. You could have told me at least one kind word."

Instead of responding, the man grasped his crossbow with both hands and prepared it for shooting. It was pointed down the street away from the rider but the man has made it clear that he's on some important task and is not in the mood for conversation.

"I said get out of here." he said, once again turning his head towards the Dark Elf and the three horses. "Leave me, man."

Hakon sighed and grabbed the reins, intending to leave his horses in the stable, but in that moment the village turned to Oblivion and the crossbowman became the chief of Daedra.

They heard screams of pain from the building next to the longhouse after which the Dark Elf jumped on his horse and two men ran out of the building with blades covered with blood. One of them was dragging a sack made of cloth so he returned his axe in the scabbard before climbing on his mount. It was now obvious to Hakon that the building they ran out of was the village bank and that they had just robbed it.

The crossbowman proved to be a dutiful guard and a dangerous bandit. Not willing to leave behind a witness, and to turn his back on him as well, he turned his crossbow around and leveled it with Hakon's chest. Before he could loose, an aging man limped out of the bank with an axe in his hand and a wound in his belly, yelling for Gods before falling to his death. That distraction was enough, and when the bandit turned his focus towards Hakon, the stranger was already swinging his hand towards him. It felt like a strong fist punched him in the chest and pierced it. He looked down and saw the golden hilt of Hakon's dagger and his own blood dripping down his stomach. The next second he doubled over and fell dead.

Hakon slid down his saddle and grabbed the dead man's crossbow, pointing at the three raiders that sought revenge for their fallen comrade. After a split second Hakon instinctively shot the biggest one, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking him down on the ground. He dropped the crossbow and jumped aside, just in time to evade a swing from one of the bandits. The axe was already in Hakon's hand, parrying the blow of the second bandit. The strike separated the head of Hakon's axe from the handle, but the bandit lost balance and fell from his horse. Hakon didn't give him chance to get up; a powerful blow from the wooden handle cracked the man's head and sent him to afterlife. Seeing the death of the man who held the coin, the bandit galloped towards Hakon, who tossed away the handle and grabbed the axe on the ground. He swung it with all his strength and it left his hands, striking the last bandit in the middle of the chest and bringing him down.

Grunts of pain and the gallop of a horse reminded Hakon that one of the bandits was still alive with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder. However, the wounded man had no intention to risk his fate and instead of attacking Hakon, galloped out of the village leaving the coin and his fallen friends behind. Checking once again if all have died and seeing that they have, Hakon sighed and went down the street. First he approached the old man's body and turned him on his back, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer to Shor and Kyne. This man had attempted to fight the raiders and paid for it with his life. He deserved honor.

Hakon turned around toward the inn which frightened villagers started coming out of. One of them, a fat clean shaven man, pointed at the bandit who still squeezed the sack of coin.

"Shor's bones! This is Henrik the Scourge!"

People assembled around the body. There wasn't a man, woman or child in Eastern Skyrim who hadn't heard of Henrik, known as the Scourge, a bandit, sellsword and killer. Now he lied dead, having failed to spend a single coin from the raid in Eirikstead.

That reminded him of the screaming from the bank, so he led several villagers in the building. Of the four people that were inside, one was alive: a short and old man with a deep cut on his upper arm.

"At least you're alive" someone said as they led the man to the inn to treat his wound. Then they remembered the stranger who saved the bank and the coin.

"I am Denluf, the shopkeeper" the fat man said. "Be our guest, kinsman."

"Hakon Ironhand" the stranger said and first put his horses in the stable before joining the other villagers in the inn.

"Here is our hero! I'll be the first to buy him a cup of mead" said one of the patrons, a red-bearded farmer.

Hakon was happy to accept free drinks. He emptied tankard after tankard, and spoke with the villagers of Eirikstead. The warmth from the fire pit made him forget about the cold and the blood from the outside. One of the patrons even took a lute and began singing a song in Hakon Ironhand's honor.

"Well, Hakon Ironhand" said the old man from the bank, who Hakon learned was Beolik the treasurer. "Would you, as a reward, accept twenty silver pieces?"

The warrior moved his lips in a slight smile. Coin…at least that I have enough, he thought. A man misinterpreted his hesitance and said:

"You're offering too little, Beolik."

"A tenth of the sack is what he deserves!" the red-bearded farmer was the loudest.

"If I remember well, Jarl Thengal promised a reward of one hundred silver pieces for whoever kills Henrik" said Anver the barkeep.

"Kinsmen and women…" the farmer said after downing a tankard of ale. "Henrik the Scourge did not have just three bandits with him. If there's truth to my words, the band is bigger and it may happen that they pay us a visit to see why their comrades have not returned."

Most of the room sobered up after hearing the man's words and the warning of an imminent threat.

"Torstein is right, they will have revenge."

Fear snuck in most of villagers' hearts and they already saw Henrik's avengers galloping through the village slaughtering and burning.

"Perhaps if we told them it wasn't us…"

All eyes turned towards the stableman Arne Horse-Head who uttered the last sentence.

"You're talking foolishness, Arne" Torstein said. "They're not going to ask what happened with Henrik and his men. They will let their swords do all the talking."

It is then the villagers remembered the death of the old man who tried to defend the bank. Someone yelled:

"People, we don't have a protector anymore. Old Rodolf has fallen, Gods give him rest. And there is no better replacement than Hakon Ironhand!"

It was a complete success. Everyone saw the stranger in action, killing the bandits single-handedly even though the raid did not concern him. The coin in the small bank was theirs, but none of the villagers, except old Rodolf, dared to step out and try and defend it. They hid in the safety of their homes, letting the stranger fight Henrik and his men. If he wanted to, he could have simply taken the sack and left. Who would dare stop him? Instead, he fought the brigands with courage and did not even mention a reward.

Arne Horse-Head was still skeptical.

"And if Hakon Ironhand left Eirikstead? We could say…"

A wave of protests silenced the stableman.

"I tell you, they will burn down the village and kill everyone they come across. As I said, they won't ask who killed their men" Torstein said.

Hakon silently stood at the bar, sipping his mead and thinking about what to do. Should he really stay in the village and protect it instead of leaving first thing in the morning? He thought about how they so easily let Henrik the Scourge raid their bank. Should he protect a village of cowards that would rather let a man rob and humiliate them than risk their lives to try and stop him? However he just couldn't leave knowing that there is a possibility other bandits will come to have revenge. And if he leaves, they will be having it at the wrong place, raping and killing those who had nothing to do with it. They would hurt the children too, the innocent children. He took his tankard and hit it on the bar several times, silencing the crowd.

"Any other day I would have refused, but…there is a possibility that the other bandits will return and I wouldn't want the village to suffer because I killed those men. So for the time being, I will accept your offer."

The entire inn roared in approval at these words. Denluf and Beolik approached Hakon.

"Hakon Ironhand, in the presence of Gods, we hereby name you Shield of Eirikstead" Denluf said.

"The longhouse is yours, and the old sod in it." Torstein said.

"All right, kinsmen" Hakon said. "I'm the new Shield of Eirikstead. Let me go see the office."

As he walked out the door, he turned around and addressed the people again:

"I'll count on you to bury those men as is proper. Also, one of the bandits destroyed my axe. I would like Borg to forge me a good blade as replacement."

"Aye, Hakon!" replied the strong Borg, the village's blacksmith.

Hakon walked out in the cold and toward the longhouse.

"Hakon Ironhand, Thane of the Plains, Shield of Eirikstead. Sounds ridiculous."


End file.
